Let's start with a couple of questions.
When was the last time a movie really made you think? I'm
not referring to plot intricacies in a clever mystery or a thriller, or even about
quasi-provocative political or social issues like those raised by films such as
the recent Spotlight (which I liked) or Carol (which I liked less). No, I’m talking about questions with deeper personal
implications - about values, human connection, ambition, or purpose. Such films are pretty rare, right?
Okay, here's another one: When was the last time you were
touched or thrilled by the sheer beauty of a motion picture? Fanny and
Alexander (1982) and The Mill and the Cross (2011) come to my mind,
and I’m sure I could name a few others, but again, not very many.
The Italian writer/director Paolo Sorrentino seems to
specialize in movies with just these qualities: lushly beautiful films that
contemplate some of life's big questions – films like Youth (2015) and The
Great Beauty [La grande belezza](2013).
This review discusses the latter movie, and a separate
review of Youth is posted next
Winner of the 2014 Academy Award in the category of Best
Foreign Language Film, Sorrentino’s The Great Beauty is a rich, stylish,
virtuosic motion picture that has been compared to Fellini's masterwork La
Dolce Vita (1960) – appropriately, in my view. The director is clearly an admirer of
Fellini, and at just 45, he may be this generation’s great Italian auteur. Like Dolce Vita, The Great
Beauty has as its protagonist a journalist caught up in the social whirl of
Roman high society – writers, artists, performers, intellectuals, princesses,
patricians, sinners and saints – searching for meaning amidst the extravagance
and superficial sophistication all around him. But Fellini’s movie seems to
conclude that there is no meaning, that sensation is all there is; while The
Great Beauty is warmer, more hopeful, less pessimistic and thus has, I
feel, more of a heart.
At the center of T.G.B. is Jep Gambordella, author of a brilliant,
influential novella some forty years ago which made him famous, but who has
been coasting on his reputation and his considerable charm since then. Jep lives
in a stunning apartment overlooking the Roman Coliseum, and knows everyone
worth knowing, all the gossip worth sharing, who is sleeping with whom and who
isn’t. He notes, “I didn't just want to
live my life, I wanted to be the king of the high life.” It seems he has
succeeded.
As the film opens, Jep is reveling in the big, throbbing
party thrown to celebrate his 65th birthday, and it’s quite an event;
everyone is there - dancing, flirting,
drinking, carousing. But (with apologies
to Smokey Robinson), if we take a good look at Jep’s face, we’ll see his smile
looks out of place, and if we look closer we may even trace the tracks of his
tears.
Jep has never married, but he has slept with pretty much
everyone. Yet, upon learning that his first love, a girl he has not seen in
forty years, has recently died, he is grief stricken. He begins to think –
probably not for the first time – about what he has become and what’s in store;
in short, about life's great challenges and mysteries. Through Jep’s melancholy eyes, we perceive that
most of his acquaintances, notwithstanding some superficial success, are unhappy.
At one point he remarks to his friends, “We’re all on the brink of despair, all
we can do is look each other in the face, keep each other company, joke a
little… Don't you agree?"
Sorrentino acknowledges that there is beauty in our world, human creations that can lift our spirits, reflect our common humanity as well as despair - art, music and artifacts, not the least being those of and in Rome itself. The Great Beauty has been described as
an homage to the splendor of this grand city – its extraordinary architecture, its
fountains and plazas, art, sculpture and statuary, monuments to past glories
and a rich, if decaying, history. It’s right there on screen for us to savor, underlined
by a lovely, rich, often soaring musical score including works by Tavener, Pärt, Górecki
and Poulenc, and new music by David Lang. Jep surely appreciates the sensual and
aesthetic pleasure which this world provides – he’s been a sybarite for most of
his life, after all - but he seeks something more - beyond sensation, wealth, and
the supercilious cynicism of the intellectuals and glitterati he’s been hanging
with.
Jep’s social connections and his work as an arts critic take
him to a variety of places – to galleries and avant-garde performances, to churches,
to funerals, to opulent, private homes and to modest bourgeous flats. He visits an old acquaintance - a strip club
impresario - and meets his beautiful, intriguing daughter Ramona, an exotic
dancer with a secret; he hangs out with friends including a vainglorious
communist writer; interviews an empty-headed
performance artist called Talia Concept; seeks advice from a humorously earthbound
cleric, Cardinal Bellucci; and is inspired by the deeply spiritual, Mother
Theresa-like nun referred to as the Saint (“Santa”). The cast of characters is
as varied as it is colorful, and illustrative. Although the movie appears
carnival-like at times, we come to realize that we’re accompanying Jep on an
existential exploration, albeit a colorful, luxurious one.
The Great Beauty works because of its fabulous
cinematography and music, its enchanting location, its engaging intellectualism, and most importantly because of its star, the fabulous Toni Servillo (Il
Divo). Servillo has a most expressive mug and mien, and the grace and
subtlety to know how to use these eloquently and evocatively. He is just remarkable in this picture. I could
watch him endlessly.
The film is on the long side, but sometimes, as here, that
is a blessing. While some patience is required initially, The Great Beauty's keen observations
and ample visual pleasures actually encourage repeated viewings.
Recommended.
In Italian with
English subtitles
2 hours 21 minutes.
The Great Beauty is
available for streaming (rent or buy) via Amazon Instant Video, Hulu, iTunes
and elsewhere; and on DVD from Netflix.
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